


Road To Damascus

by Titti



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Challenge Response, M/M, Merry Smutmas Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-04
Updated: 2006-01-04
Packaged: 2019-01-16 06:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12337179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: Clarity comes in strange places.





	Road To Damascus

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Merry Smutmas 2005.  
> Written in the 2nd person, from Draco's POV.

Snape told you to leave England, to hide far away, but when you Apparate, you find yourself in a familiar setting. You can see the castle from here, but the vibrating energy that you've witnessed for six years is missing, evaporated under the summer sun, and in this humid night, the castle feels dead, just like you do.

You wander aimlessly, watching the wet grass being crushed under your footsteps. You too were crushed by something much bigger than yourself, except, in your arrogance, you didn't consider the possibility that you were not up to the task until the weight of your duty squeezed all the life from your body. But unfortunately, you're still breathing.

Your eyes look forward, far into a distant world that has rejected you, or maybe you have turned your back on it. Regardless, your attention is not on where you are going, and your feet get wet before you even know you've reached the lake.

The water is black and shiny, almost like Snape's hair. You smile when you picture your professor with a white halo in his hair. No, the moon's reflection wouldn't be as attractive as it is on the dark mirror in front of you.

You focus on the water. It doesn't move; there are no underwater movements to break the stillness. Dead. One more thing in your life that feels dead.

You try to remember what it means to feel alive: your mother's soothing caresses, your father's praising comments, Snape's inadvertent touches. You snort at your own thoughts. Snape would be disgusted if he knew how much you want him. You aren't even sure when your distrust of the man turned into obsession. It's probably just the result of your recent self-imposed isolation, but it really doesn't matter because the possibility of a relationship with Snape was dead before it even started.

You sigh. Nothing in your life turned out to be what you expected, what your parents promised it would be. You've reached the point where your life is nothing. You can't even feel the pain anymore. You have no more tears to shed. You want to fall asleep and never wake up. You wish you could submerge yourself in an all-encompassing darkness that would make the world's colours disappear.

As the thought reaches your consciousness, you start walking into the lake. You take your robe off as the warm water seeps into your trousers. On a whim, you take off your shoes and socks. You want to feel the sand under your feet; you want to feel something - anything - just one last time.

You stop thinking as you walk deeper into the water. With each step, you work on your clothes and it's not that easy to peel off your wet trousers. Once upon a time, you'd feel annoyed at having to deal with such inconvenience. Now, it's irrelevant, because you're focused inward, searching for final peace.

The water rises around you. Goosebumps mar your pale skin, until they are covered by the black mass around you. You take one last breath before your mouth and nose are under water. You don't stop walking, you can't, because deep down you know you are a coward and if you stop, you'll run to Snape again, crying for his help. Again. No, you can't rely on him. You have to do this on your own.

Whoever says that when you are about to die your life flashes before you is lying. No, you are too consumed by the pain to think about the past. As you sink deeper, you exhale the air still trapped in your lungs. Eventually, your lungs start to burn. The fire spreads through your body until the pain is the only thing you feel. You laugh with joy, but the water finds its way to your lungs and the fire flares up until you can't stand it anymore. 

When things couldn't get worse, they do. You feel something wrap around your ankle. You panic, start swinging your arms frenetically, trying to reach the surface, but you never move. You wanted death. You want life. You don't have a choice anymore. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the pain, hoping that the end will come swiftly.

Then, the strangest thing happens: you can breathe again. Short, frantic breaths fill your burning lungs with vital oxygen. It takes a minute or two before your heart and breathing return to normal. You ask yourself how is it possible, but you've been surrounded by magic since your birth, and nothing seems impossible, only unlikely. The how and why become irrelevant in the face of your survival.

Only then your brain acknowledges the slimy pressure against your mouth and nose. Your eyes snap open, but it's dark, darker than the dungeon ever was, and you need time before you can make out a shadow. Another moment passes before you can see the outline, and then you scream, or you would have, had your mouth not been covered by a large tentacle.

Slowly arms - one, two, three, you lose count - slide over your body. One arm closes around your waist, while the others glide over you to counteract the water's current, holding you upright in the process. You wonder if this is what a snake would feel like. Probably not, you conclude, because these arms are warm and enticing. They protect you from the coldness surrounding you.

You should be terrified in the grip of the Giant Squid, or maybe you should feel affronted that a simple beast is keeping you prisoner. You put up a mock fight, kicking your legs, knowing full well that you won't go anywhere. Yet, you do it, because it's what your supposed to do (you're a Malfoy after all), but your family name, your upbringing and your pure blood mean nothing in the depth of the lake. You have no honour to uphold down here, and it finally becomes all right to relax in the strong hold.

The tentacle around your mouth loosens, and you panic again, until you realise that you can still breath. You try to find an explanation, but the tentacle closes around your chest. A valve attaches to your nipple. Then the tentacle is moving again, and the suction sends waves of pleasure through your body. You gasp, letting out a bubble of air. All the movement from the squid stops for an instant, and then the tentacle attaches to your nipple again, stealing your breath for reasons that have nothing to do with the water.

The eye you can see moves quickly, scanning you, as if trying to determine what is causing your reactions. You raise your chin, giving the squid the haughtiest expression you can muster. Somehow, you think that the squid would be smiling at your display if it could, that amused and superior smile that you used to see on Dumbledore's face. 

"I'm still better than you," you mumble to yourself, annoyed that the memory of Dumbledore affects you more than it should.

The squid isn't moved by your outburst. Instead, it keeps studying your reactions to its touch. Two arms close around your thighs in a loose hold. They slide away like a viscous rope, tantalising your sensitive skin, moving upward, sliding against your hipbone, so close to your awakening cock. Your breathing quickens, anticipation coursing through your body.

This is wrong. So very wrong. But your mother taught you long ago that you should have anything that feels good, and you can't resist this sinful pleasure after a month of numbness. You want this; you want it now. 

You kick your legs. You're not trying to get away, just the opposite, and the minute shift brings one arm between your legs, bringing wonderful pressure against your crotch. You let out a deep breath, and that piques the squid's curiosity. It slides its arm upwards (and somewhere you've learned that it's over five metre long); you enjoy every exquisite centimetre of warm pressure.

The water provides a gentle buffer as the arm presses against your sac, separating your balls, rocking them against the warm, liquid embrace that the water provides. So many sensations at once, but they don't satisfy the desire that has suddenly exploded inside you. You grip the arm wrapped around your waist, using it to obtain more friction. 

"Oh, God." The new bubble doesn't begin to convey just how good it feels.

Suddenly, you feel another arm gliding down your back, its valves awakening your nerves. Before you can express your pleasure, arms are everywhere. Suctioning valves trap the water against your skin. Viscous arms move slowly over every part of your body. You can't focus on any one touch, but you lose yourself to the multitude of caresses. 

The squid is still looking at you like you're some inferior breed to study. You close your eyes, and ignore its motives, but oh.... a tentacle reaches your tailbone, attaching and detaching for a few moments, before sliding between your arse cheeks. You tense at the prospect of what might happen. No, because no matter how good it feels you don't want your first time to be with a beast, and yes, you're thinking about the future again. You don't know how you'll manage, but you'll get out of this lake alive, after you enjoy this moment.

"Fuck." The tentacle covers your arse hole, pumping over it, sucking on it over and over, until you're a mass of nerves, ready to scream from frustration. You let out a long moan, and it must mean something to the squid, because the next moment, its arms are everywhere again. Nipples, navel, back, everything is sucked and petted, leaving you breathless. Then an arm moves back to your cock, while the assault to your arse continues mercilessly. 

You can't think, don't want to think. It doesn't matter who or what is touching you. Nothing in your admittedly limited experience has ever felt so good. Waves of desire steal your last rational thoughts as you succumb to the most animal desires. You let out the largest bubble of air as your orgasm is sucked from you with erotic precision, before you go slack in the monster's hold.

The arm around your waist creeps away, and then the giant squid cradles you in its arms until you can breath again. Then, it swims upwards until you reach the surface of the lake. It leads you to shore, but you're not alone. A blanket and strong arms surround you before you have the chance to explain the state you're in.

"Foolish boy," Snape hisses, but he holds you just a little bit closer. "You could have gotten both of us caught."

"I...." You shake your head. "I didn't think I'd have to face that possibility."

He snorts. "Draco, did you truly think that you could die in the lake? Did you think that we would have thrown four kids in the lake during the Triwizard Tournament?" 

You can feel the irritation coming off in waves from him, but you smile. "I never thought you would miss the Weasel."

He pushes you back, holding you by your shoulder. "You do not know whom I would miss."

A flicker of hope blossoms when you see the way he's looking at you. "I'm sorry," you say, and for the first time in your life, you truly mean it. "I didn't think."

"That much was obvious." He lets out an annoyed sigh. "While what you did is incredibly stupid, it did have one positive outcome. Greyback followed you. He saw you jump in the lake and reported to the Dark Lord that you are dead. Hiding you will be much easier now." 

"I'm not leaving," you say stubbornly.

"If you think I am stupid enough to trust you again after this brilliant display, you are more naïve that a first year Hufflepuff."

"No need for insults, Professor," you tell him, trying hard to keep the smile at bay.

His lips curl enough to let you know that he's not really upset. He's being Snape. "Regardless, I think I'll keep you nearby." He pulls you closer, taking your breath away as you slam against his bony chest. "We're Apparating to my house."

"Pettigrew?"

"I made sure that he wouldn't be around any longer. Do not do any magic; I will get us there, understood?"

You nod against his body, and you think that when his lips brushed the top of your head, it was more than by mere chance. You can't be sure, not yet, but you're alive, and he's taking you with him, and you'll have the time find out. And if you're mistaken... you can always change his mind, because you're finally seeing clearly after a life lived under your father's guidance. What's important in this life is what makes _you_ happy, and you know that Snape will give you that happiness.


End file.
